One Long Night
by heydane
Summary: Always love Dean. Sam tries to remember that phrase. The adventures of our favorite brothers as they grow up and fight evil. Ben is hearingimpaired. John smiles and laughs yet. Chapter 4 up
1. Chapter 1

**Heyy. So, I used to write fics when I was in my teenie-bopper faze, but that was a good 5 years ago. I felt like writing, so I wrote my first Supernatural story. Right now it's a one shot, if the Winchester's take in a family friend's baby, after his mother and father are killed. I have another chapter written, when the boys are older. But e'll see if I write more, review if ya like it or not, etc. -Dana**

"Daddy, we get to keep baby Ben?" asked seven-year-old Sam.

"Well, Sammy, sort of. Ben's going to be staying with us from now on, you can think of him as you're baby brother," an older gentlemen spoke softly, "Just like you're Dean's baby brother."

"Oh great, another brat to take care of."

"Dean," John Winchester sharply asserted.

"Dad, I like the kid and all, but come on-"

"All right, that's enough kiddo," chuckled John lightly. "I'm the one who takes care of you boys." Dean sighed.

"Fine, we can keep him, Sam," Dean agreed looking at his younger brother. Out of John's sons, Dean gave in the easiest in opposition to John. Unlike Sam who questioned their father searching for an answer that deemed sufficient to his young mind.

"I can watch him, Dean, but you can still watch me, 'kay?" Sam squealed. Dean looked after his little brother day and night, rain or shine, no matter was going on. As expected, Sam constantly looked to Dean for approval.

The boys were like two peas in a pod. They were forced together naturally as brothers, but became best friends voluntary. Of course though, Dean would never admit he was best friends' with a seven-year-old.

"It's late, boys, go on to bed," John said, holding the baby tightly in his arms. Dean obeyed immediately, turning to leave the front room towards the bathroom. Sam, on the other hand, always the defiant one, pouted.

"But, dad," Sam whined, "I'm not sleepy. I wanna play with Ben."

"Sam, I gave you an order," John barked, standing from the recliner he had been occupying. Sam scratched his head, slightly confused by what his dad was saying.

"But an order is for hunting," the inquiring mind argued. Dean, who had been leaning against the wall, rolled his eyes; _Sammy, you're gonna get it_, he thought. John thought it, too, but before he could rebuke his youngest, the child spoke out again.

"You aren't putting Ben to bed, and he's only a baby," Sam emphasized. Everything always became a battle with Sam. _This kid had guts, _thought Dean.

John moved closer to Sam, but the child didn't budge. He didn't understanding that his questions were a sign of disobedience. However, more so he wasn't scaredy-cat like Dean when it came to talking to their father.

"Samuel, I tell you to do something-"

"Dad! Dad, give him a break, he doesn't get it," peeped Dean. Always protecting his little brother, he pushed himself off the wall and let his hands fall to his side. Unlike Sam, his energy had worn off for the night, and he didn't need to see his old man fighting with a seven-year-old; neither of which would back down.

"Come here, Sammy," John sighed. He knelt down to eye level with the boy, and adjusted the almost sleeping baby into his left arm. Sam shrugged and leaned into his father's leg. "Listen, kiddo, when I tell you do something, I want you to do it no matter how small it sounds. Your mother always use to tell Dean this," John softly spoke, looking into Dean's eyes, "I know what's good for you, and going to bed when you're tired is good for you. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Sam said in defeat. The boy now looked solemnly at his feet, which was common when his mother was mentioned.

"But, hey, Ben's tired too." Sam leaned over to the child, carefully pushing the blanket away from Ben's face. The baby smiled, than yawned, and nestled his cheek against the kid's young finger.

"Yeah, I'ma getting sleepy, too," Sam also yawned.

"Which is way I said to go to bed. Now you boys go on and clean up, and I'll come tuck you in," said John.

"Dad, you know what else is good for little boys named Sammy?" Dean smiled walking over to his family. His dad nodded in return.

"What?" asked Sam.

"The tickle machine!" laughed Dean, pouncing on Sam. John joined in with his free hand, completing the ritual John and Dean used nightly. The younger boy squealed with excitement, throwing his head around. They only stopped when tears began forming in Sam's eyes.

"Okay, son, now go brush your teeth and put on your pjs." Since Mary died, John could care less about dental hygiene, but his wife certainly wouldn't approve of a toothless son. "Say good night to Ben."

"Night Benny, my baby brother," Sam stressed, enjoying his newfound 'possession'. Dean grumbled _that's what I say to him._ Sam scurried off down the hall to the bathroom, receiving a couple smacks to the bottom from his father.

"Leave the door open, Sam!" John yelled, having a clear view of the bathroom door from the front room. Sam could never be left alone, not since the fire that consumed Mary Winchester seven years prior. Dean began to walk off as well, but John grabbed him roughly by the arm.

"He has to learn sooner or later, Dean. There are things you say and things you don't say. Talking to me like that, isn't one of those things," the father firmly said.

"I know, dad. But he was just asking-"

"No, next time he won't get off with you butting in and you won't get by speaking to me like that. Understood?"

"Yes sir," frowned Dean. _Of course, Sam doesn't something wrong and I get in trouble._ John gave him an once-over before being satisfied that his eldest son recognized his wrongdoing.

"Help me put this little tyke to bed?" asked John.

"Okay."

John got up and Dean followed close behind him. The father silently noted his youngest son was still brushing his teeth, diligently scrubbing like Dean had showed him.

The families' Texas ranch was considerably small, as they were only renting. John decided that'd he keep Ben with him, in his room, knowing his sons would need to rest without the cries of a baby. He bent down to the makeshift crib, placing the infant carefully in it and covering him with an oversized blanket.

"He's cute, I guess," admitted Dean.

"Yeah, he ain't bad."

"Think he'll like to hunt?" the pre-teen pondered.

"Well, you do, don't ya?" Dean only nodded. "Ben will two then. Plus, he's got a great big brother to show him the ropes." John ruffled Dean's hair, which the boy promptly pushed away. Winchester men weren't much for mush and gratitude; but Dean nodded again and let a small smile creep upon his face. When the two looked back at the crib, the child was soundly asleep.

"Alright, go brush, while I get Sam in bed."

John found Sam in his and Dean's room, bouncing slightly in his spot on the bed. Somehow, between the bathroom and his bedroom, the young man retained some liveliness.

"Down," John abruptly said, causing the boy to automatically stop. "Sammy, you gotta learn to even though I don't always act like it, I'm the adult and what I say goes. What happens when Dean talks back?"

"He gets spanked." Sam wrinkled his nose. He didn't like when that happened, though it wasn't often. Generally Sam was the one being punished.

"Right. You were gonna get it, but you're brother stepped in." Like any child, Sam didn't enjoy this form of discipline, whether or not he was the one being spanked. "Dean's a good big brother. You remember that, all right? No matter what happens, he'll always be with you, and Dean'll be there for baby Ben too-"

"But baby-" Sam began to interrupt. John harshly smacked the child's hand.

"You didn't let me finish, Sammy. Try not to interrupt." Sam nodded. "Ben gets you to be his big brother too. Which means you have to watch after him like Dean does you. Think you can do that?"

"Yes daddy!" the boy bounced.

"Good. But remember, Sam, always love Dean," John really underlined. He didn't have sincere talks often with his boys, but he was good at knocking in some good points for his children to remember, like always: look out for one another, carry a weapon, and follow orders.

"Always love Dean," Sam repeated. John didn't realize that one-day his loving little Sammy wouldn't be so docile.

"Good boy, now get to sleep. We're leaving in the morning." Dean, now at doorframe, grimaced _why do we have to move? _His dad had banished the spirits that killed Ben's parents; they weren't coming back. There wasn't a danger anymore and he kind of liked Texas.

"But, why dad?"

"Shoo, son, it's not important," John, cooed. Dean saw this as his opportunity to step in.

"Next time, Sammy, I'm gonna let dad spank ya," Dean snickered. He walked over to the small set of drawers on his side of the room and stripped down to his underwear, replacing his clothes for a set of plaid pants and a white t-shirt.

"Okay, Dean," Sam whispered. When Dean said something, he meant to, and Sam always – well, he almost always, listened to what Dean said.

"Ugh, lighten up Sammy," the older brother joked.

"Under the covers, Sam." Helping his son get cozy, John patted Sam's leg and got up from his place on the bed.

"Hey, wait dad!" Dean meekly said. "Can you sing to us? Like… well you know, can you?" Not wanting to mention their mother, Dean knew his father understood. It was another ritual the family occasionally shared. After a rough day of training or hunting, Dean would remember his mother and father singing and inquire his father to sing them to sleep. The lullaby was one of the few aspects of his wife, John let shine through.

"Sure, baby," smiled John. He took a seat on Sam's bed, on the side near Dean and began softly singing. Dean lay on his stomach, grasping the pillow under his head. He calmly watched his hero sing and his breathing followed the rhythm of the song. Sam snuggled with his beloved blanket, with his face aglow listening to his father sing (not always on key). He still continued to bounce of his back trying to match the beat of the song. He than looked over at Dean, who met his gaze knowing exactly what his little brother was asking, he confirmed with a nod.

"Here, dad. Ben can have my blankie now," Sam said with all the confidence in the world. He held up the ragged blue material, which John received graciously.

"That's nice of you, Sam. Ben will like it, now close you're eyes." John traced the words, "Precious Boy" sown into the blanket, before looking at Dean, sharing their own gape. Turning back he kiss Sam on the forehead and wish him good night.

The blanket had belonged to Dean, and was given to him by his mother Mary. Shortly after the fire, Dean himself gave his beloved friend to Sam. Sometimes he wished he had it back for comfort and belonging, seeing that he never really had friends. Earlier that night, Sam had asked Dean if he should give Ben his blankie and Dean only replied with, "if you want to." The brothers often gazed at each other, not having to speak one word to know what the particular stare was about. Sam looked to Dean for support, wanting to pick the right time to hand over his blanket.

Dean soon after fell asleep, followed by Sam. Before John Winchester retired to his room, he got up and hovered over his oldest boy. It had been a year or so, since him and Dean suddenly stopped with the whole good-night-kiss ritual. There would be a hug at the door, but no bedside service.

John never let a night go by, though, without kissing both his children good night and showing his immense affection for his two most important assignments.

"I love you, Dean." And with that he shut off the nightstand lamp and retreated to his own room.

"I love you too, dad," Dean whispered. Some nights he willed himself to stay up until his father left, just to hear those priceless words.


	2. Chapter 2

Peering briefly into the crib, John Winchester put himself to bed lying on his less than comfy mattress. The man didn't bother to change out of his rugged jeans or flannel shirt; he didn't really have that luxury anymore. He left his shoes next to his bed, in case he needed to get to them quickly. John was always on alert. The whole hunting business could do that to a man; not only did he have to worry about fighting off spirits, but he had a mischievous eleven year old and a curious seven year old, and now a baby, no more than two years of age.

John let out a big sigh. "What am I doing? I can't take care of Ben." This was partly true. Although, he was more than capable of watching out for a child, since Mary's death he turned his entire life into a mission for revenge. Grumbling to himself some more, John's biggest concern was that the child would slow him down from whatever he needed to do.

"Jamie," the man chuckled. "Always leaving me red handed." Duke James, or Jamie (as John called him), had run into John's path 5 years prior. Duke was a hunter, only a few years older than John. But he had been in the business many years longer than John. At the point when the two met, Mary's death had only been two years before and John was still knew to the hunting supernatural deal. He had started looking into all things weird and evil after his wife was engulfed in flames. It had taken him a year to learn enough about the supernatural existent before he decided to become a hunter of evil.

It was one of his first hunts, and for him it was a difficult challenge. The target: a ware wolf. The destination: Richwood, Texas. John had left his children in Okalahoma, with a family friend, who was also knowledgeable of hunting. He drove the way to Richwood, preparing his pistol with pure silver bullets. Make a long story short, Duke James was running with the same lead and just about shot John square in the heart. After it was all said and done, the two hit it off quite well and Duke invited John back to his house in London, Texas. His wife, Louise prepared a late night dinner for them and within a few hours, John had opened up and laughing a bit.

John liked London and the James' so much, that he moved the boys and himself out there. He was able to rent a small house not far from the James', and dropped off Dean and Sam with Louise when he and Duke went on a hunt. Dean and Sam adored Louise and enjoyed seeing their father lighten up a bit and laugh. Duke taught John everything he knew about hunting. Being the senior hunter, Duke left John to deal with the police when they were often stopped or when they would be left to clean up some mess. Duke always left John red handed.

By this time, John had fallen asleep, but the memories of his dear friend did not cease. The night's events overwhelmed the man's dreams. It had been a routine mission: find the bones of three buried people and burn them. Hunting was never that easy, though.

"_Ben's a smart one, John," Duke said from the drivers' seat. _

"_Well, he is your son, James," replied John. They were nearing Richwood to complete their next job. _

"_Read me back this case, again, would ya?" Duke asked, speeding up a little._

"_Alright, we've got three spirits; the children of Bernard and Bertha Hunningberg. Legend has it ol' Bernie and Bertha went off the deep end in 1918. The couple was scared shitless of their kids becoming radical thinkers; going off and doing anything other than work and go to church. One night, Bertha begs her husband to make sure their children never stray into the wrong ways and that night the parents each take one of the twelve-year twins and suffocates them with a pillow. Than the father takes his sixteen-year-old son and does the same." John frowns, he wasn't the world's greatest dad, but he could never understand how anyone could be so cruel to his or her own child._

"_Harsh… woah. Even with The Great Depression, the only thing Ben brings me is joy," Duke said._

"_Yeah, same with my boys," John softly spoke. _

"_You said they were buried where?"_

"_Old Cavern's Cemetery." The children usually beckoned abusive parents, squeezing their lungs until they ruptured. The victims suffocated almost instantly._

John stirred upon the memory. The tragic event had only occurred the day before. Duke and John successfully found and burned the remains of three skeletons. They thought their job was done. The job was as smooth as you could ask for. Louise had a welcome back dinner ready and waiting when they returned. Duke and Louise's son, Ben, only a year old had long been sleeping when the men arrived. Half past ten, Dean and Sam should have been sleeping too, but with their Winchester charm begged Louise to let them stay up to see their father and "uncle".

Soon after Dean and Sam had devoured a set of chocolate chip cookies, they also fell asleep. John grabbed Dean and Duke picked up the mangled Sam, wiping his mouth clean of chocolate. The boys frequently stayed with the James, and they were carried about to Ben's room and laid to rest in a single twin bed.

Louise drank hot tea, and listened to her husband and friend talk about their latest adventure. Out of nowhere, the lights dimmed out and Louise yelped once before falling silent. John grabbed his flashlight, connected to his belt, and flashed it towards Louise's chair. She was dead. A small spirit hovered over her head, dripping blood from its ghostly hands.

Duke and John immediately knew the spirit was a Hunningberg, they spirit looked identical to the children in the picture they found. This spirit worked fast and before quickly and before either John or Duke could grab their pistols, the spirit attacked Duke. Pinned against the couch, Duke struggled for air, as the spirit ripped through his internal organs. John couldn't afford to fire his gun right there, he instead grabbed an iron rod positioned against the wall and swung it at the spirit. The spirit of the girl vanished into the air.

"_John-" Duke coughed. How he was able to get one word out, John didn't know. "Ben… take care. I love…" and with that Duke's eyes shut. John didn't need to hear his best friend finished. They discussed the issues on numerous occasions: what would happen if either of them died? The other would take care of both families. John understood that with his last dying breath, Duke asked him to take Ben in as his own and to remind his son that he loved him. _

Shooting up from his position on the bed, John shook his head and his eyes landed on the crib next to him. Ben was screaming. John stood and walked the few steps to the crib.

"Shoo, Ben. Everything's going to be all right." John could barely get out the words. He was left red handed. In his heart, John knew he had a duty to this child now, but he didn't understand why his plate was being filled with this huge commitment. Duke had been a great hunter, and yet he was so easily tricked and taken.

"Come on, Ben, calm down for me, kiddo." To no avail, the baby cried even louder, Sighing, John carefully lifted up the child to his chest, just as he had done with his own children. Laying the child's head next to his heart, Ben instantly became silent, matching his tiny breaths with the up rise of John's chest. Not thinking anything of it, he cooed the baby back to sleep.

"We'll be safe together, Ben. I promise." He didn't know that for sure, but John was a strong willed man, with a hard head. When he put his mind into something, it stuck to it, no matter the circumstances. After the freak occurrence the night before, John transferred his children and Ben back to his place through the back door of the James' resident. Having Pastor Jim, who had his own way of dealing with the supernatural, come and stay with the boys. He returned to Richwood to find the fourth Hunningberg child buried a few feet from the others. The legend only called for three children, John's research at stop there and it cost him his best friend and his wife. John vowed another thing this night, that he would always check and double check findings, that research would be a top priority before executing a hunt.

"You dad loves you Ben," John whispered. He felt awkward saying that; Duke had only just died and John Winchester was the biggest man's man. He wasn't sentimental at all, but something about the sleeping baby brought out the feelings in John.

Placing Ben back in his crib, John traveled down the hallway to his boys' room, smiling when he saw Sam pushed up against Dean's side. Dean's right hand was still perched under his pillow, which he now shared with Sam's head, and his body was near falling off the edge of the bed. Sam slept contently on his back, leaning his tiny head on his older brother's shoulder. For a small child, he took up most of the bed sprawling his legs around.

"There's my boys," John grinned. He made as much of an attempt to be a normal father as he could leisure. And he regularly crept into his sons' room at night to check on the sleeping duo. The father took pride in the fact that his boys were so close, knowing one day he might not be there for them. Laughing to himself, he saw Sam's right hand laying up top Dean's left hand, which propped across Sam's chest. Sammy did that every night, creeping into Dean's bed, pushing him to the edge, and placing his older brother's protection arm across his chest for security.

As John made his way back to his room, he knocked some books on his dresser. Looking guilty, he peeked over to Ben's crib. The baby had not even stirred at the sound. It would be a while before John would come to know that the new addition to the family wasn't just a sound sleeper, but rather hard of hearing you could say.

**So, I really don't like this chapter because I didn't have many ideas for it, but I think it's best to explain what happened to Ben's parents, instead of just mentioning back to it. Next chapter: John takes Ben to the doctor. **


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks had past since the Hunningberg gig. The Winchesters were in some motel, north of Texas and south of the Canadian border. John wasn't sure where they were going to live next; Texas had been good to them. The small city of London was private and pleasant; it would be hard to find a similar place to raise three young boys. It was a Thursday afternoon and Dean and Sam were restless in the small room.

"Dean," Sam whined. "Can't we go outside and play?"

"No, Sammy. Dad said to stay here." Dean stood at the bathroom stink, rinsing out two cereal bowls.

"But, Dean, I'm bored. There's nothing to do here. How come we can't go back to London?" Dean sighed, e_nough with the questions, Sammy._

Like most things, that night three weeks ago was never formally discussed. John told Sam they had to move on because the work in London was bad. For Dean, John briefly told his son what happened. He entrusted Ben in Dean's care like he did Sam.

"Ben can't play outside yet," Dean tried to reason with the seven-year-old.

"Dean, please. Just for a little bit?" Sam was now hovering over the toddler on the floor. He felt the child's stomach, rubbing it lightly. "Ben's hungry, Dean. I can feel it." The older boy grunted looking at Sam threw the mirror. "Dean…" Sam started again.

"Lay off Sam." Dean turned around to face his little brothers on the floor. _Well, Ben's a Winchester now, too, _he thought. Sam pouted again.

"I'm hungry too, Dean," Sam moaned. _Here we go. Those eyes always get me._

"You just had a bowl of cereal!"

"But, Dean, that was like forever ago." _No, it was like twenty minute ago, Sammy._

"Dean," Sam growled, this time. _Geez, how many times is he gonna say my name?_

"Hey! Don't get angry, little brother." Not only was Sam restless, he now became hungry, add a bit of tired and you had a very grumpy little boy. Sam stood up and began towards the door.

"I'm playing outside!" Sam stomped. _Right, dad would be so pissed if I let you, you little run. _

"Okay, okay," sighed Dean. "I'll go get you some candy from the machine. Stay here with Ben, and lock the door. Don't open it for anyone. Understand?"

"Yes, Dean."

Sam squealed with excitement; he didn't get candy much. Dean often used the sweets as leverage with Sam. Practically running to the vending machines, down the hall, Dean popped in a dollar. He picked out M&M's, as they were his favorite candy and a packet of Starburst for Sam. He than hurried back to their room, knocking a pattern he taught Sam, for situations like this. When Sam didn't open, Dean got worried.

"Sammy! Open up!" Dean banged on the door. "Sammy!" The door opened slowly, and Dean took a defensive position.

"Why are you pounding on the door Dean?" Sam asked. On instinct, Dean placed his arm across Sam and made sure the room was clean of anything harmful. Satisfied Dean grabbed Sam harshly by the shoulders shaking the younger male.

"Why didn't you open the door?" Dean yelled.

"You didn't do the secret knock," Sam bluntly said.

"Yes, I did. You didn't answer!"

"Sorry, Dean." Sam looked to the ground. "I went potty." _Oh, brother, you were taking a leak!_

"Sammy, it's okay. I just got scared when you didn't answer and I couldn't hear Ben." Dean shut the door and moved to the child on the floor, quietly playing with his train.

"You were scared, Dean?" With wide-eyes, Sam didn't know his big brother could be scared, he was eleven after all.

"No," Dean quickly asserted. "Just worried… here, eat your Starbursts." Dean threw the packet over to Sam, which Sam caught with ease. Sam would now be content for at least an hour or so. Dean turned to his attention to Ben.

"Sorry, Ben." He softly rubbed the child's head like he had seen Louise do. The toddler cooed and laughed at the touch of Dean. The eldest Winchester son had a special way with kids, it was awkward at times and didn't come out very often, but dealing with Sam for the last seven years taught him a thing or two.

"Sammy was being a brat," he said, sticking his tongue out at his brother. He could still act like a kid. Sam stuck his tongue out in retaliation and the gooey mess of candy dribbled from the corners of his lips. Dean could roll his eyes. Dean learned that Ben only responded if you spoke loud and looked directly at him, so he positioned himself crossed legged in front of the child.

"Can I play?" Ben smiled and passed him a toy. "Thanks buddy."

Eventually John came back from researching at the local library. About half past 4, Ben lay sleeping on the bed. John noted the blue baby blanket under him; Dean must have laid the child on it, not wanting the musk of the motel bed to bother the child.

"Hey boys," the father said calmly. Sam jumped up from his position in front of the TV and leaped into his fathers' arms.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, Sammy," John said, messaging the boy's head, "Shoo pal, Ben's sleeping."

"It doesn't bother him," Dean noted.

"But, nonetheless. Whatcha you boys do all afternoon?"

"Nothing, he" Sam glared at Dean, "wouldn't let me play outside!"

"Good boy, Dean," John laughed quietly. Dean only nodded as he scribbled on some paper.

"But I'm bored, Dad." Sam yawned.

"Oh, yeah, I can see that." Looking around the small room, there was a litter of Starburst wrappers, toys sprawled everywhere, and a makeshift tent. "Dean didn't do anything fun with you?" Sam shook his head.

"Liar," snarled Dean. "We played fort and watched TV and Simon says."

"But we didn't play outside," frowned Sam.

"Maybe tomorrow, Sammy," Dean reasoned.

"Okay, Dean."

"Can we have spaghetti tonight?" _Where does this kid get the energy? Too many questions, _Dean thought.

"How 'bout some pizza, Sammy?" said John. _Mmm pizza._ John put down his notebook and looked around for the phone.

"I don't want pizza."

"Tough luck, kid," grunted John.

"Daddy, we had pizza last night." Even at seven, Sam was concerned about eating right. It was all the talk shows and news programs him and Dean would watch during the day.

"Sam, that's enough. Its just food." John never had patience for Sam and his questions. Dean always followed orders at the snap of a finger. He loved his youngest with all his heart, but the kid knew how to get a raise out of his father.

"He's tired, Dad. He didn't take a nap today," Dean snickered. _Even demon hunter's need naps, dad. _

"Oh, well take a nap, Sam."

"I'm not tired," Sam shot Dean another angry look. "Dean doesn't know that I'm tired." _Oh, yes I do. I know everything you feel. _John knew Dean's notion were true too.

"Sam!" John's yell made Sam jump in his seat. _He hates when Daddy yells._

"Come on, Sammy. Let's lay down until dinner," Dean hopped in. He was always the negotiator between the older and younger male.

Sighing John knew he didn't have to yell at Sam all the time, but it was quicker and easier than spanking the child. At times, the father found it impossible to read his youngest son.

Dean led Sam by the hand to the bed farthest from the door

"But, Dean, I said I wasn't tired," Sam whispered, so that John wouldn't hear him. John was on the other side of the room calling for pizza.

"You didn't take a nap today." Dean now was in auto mode, speaking in monotone and very bluntly. Looking at his little brother, Dean could see Sam searching for a comeback.

"It's okay to be tired, Sammy. I'm tired, too." Dean pretended to yawn. _That'll do the trick,_ he thought.

"Okay. If you're tired, too…"

"Yes, that's Wakeford, room 234." John had quickly learned that the hunting business left you penniless, and moving from one town to another made it easier to created fake names. Credit card companies graciously handed out their service to anyone willing to accept a card.

Sam put his head on the pillow, lying on his back. He didn't close his eyes though.

"Dean, come on. Lay down," Sammy whined. Rolling his eyes, Dean jumped on the bed and stuffed his face into the pillow.

"Sam, close your eyes," he mumbled, barely audile threw the pillow. Sam scrunched his nose and wrinkled his eyes.

"They are closed, Dean."

"No they aren't," again monotone. Knowing Sam wouldn't close his eyes until he felt safe and was sure Dean would stay by his side, Dean rested his hand on the child's belly. _This is weird. Why are you so paranoid, Sammy?_ He yawned again; maybe he was tired after all. Dean knew why and he didn't really think it was weird that Sam wanted his protection. Plus, everyday Dean woke up to his little brother being curled up tightly next to him; and everyday he'd find his arm propped on Sam's chest, know Sam put it there.

Hearing a tiny voice giggle, Dean rolled to his back. He soon realized Sam wasn't next to him, and he bolted to a sitting position. Looking around, he let out a sign of relief when he saw his dad and younger brother eating pizza.

"Guess you were tired, huh?" John said, stuffing another piece of pizza in his mouth. Shaking his head, Dean rubbed his eyes to see clearly.

"Yeah, I guess." He moved to the table, scooting Sam off his chair.

"Hey!" shouted Sam.

"I'm older," Dean only grunted.

"Come here, Sammy. Sit with me." John picked up Sam and sat him on his knee, handing the boy another slice of pizza.

"Okay daddy." John and Sam were okay, at least for a while. "Dean, you're spilling!"

Looking down at his shirt, Dean couldn't see any spots of pizza.

"Your chin, silly," laughed Sam. John chuckled too. He only missed moments like these when he allowed himself the time to remember the way life was before Mary died.

"Oh there." Dean smeared the tomato sauce from his mom, using the back of his hand. Sam politely shoved a napkin towards his older brother. _Where does he get these manners?_ Dean took the napkin only to humor his brother.

John lifted Sam off his lap, placing him the chair and than moved towards his bed. Baby Ben still laid quietly, his tiny chest moving up and down. John figured he should wake him up soon, it only being six thirty. The father had quickly learned from his rowdy Sammy that if a child napped to long during the day, it would be hell at night trying to get him to sleep.

Ben's eyes bolted open, giving John a little startle. Only moments after the baby opened his eyes, a siren erupted through the small room. At the initial wail of the fire alarm, Ben began to cry. This was the first time Ben had reacted to any noise in the three weeks the Winchesters had traveled. But unlike other babies, the cries of the child weren't out of control and death piercing. John quickly noted this.

"Dad!" Sam screamed. _Freak out, Sammy, freak out. _Dean scowled; he was just biting into another slice of pizza.

"It's nothing, Sam," John said, picking up Ben and rocking him in his arms. "Some kid probably just pulled the fire alarm."

"Yeah, Sammy. Don't worry about it," Dean grumbled, his mouth full of pepperoni and cheese. Always alert, John moved to grab his gun from the nightstand; he was becoming a player in the whole hunt for evil, so he never could be too careful.

"Dean," he called. Dean didn't answer, only stuffed his face with more pizza. "Dean!" This time John yelled.

"What?" He received the famous John Winchester glare and immediately his face went from a dopey kid to a solider ready for action.

"Put a coat on Sam and grab yours, than get the salt and holy water," ordered John.

"Yes sir," snapped Dean. Moving fast, he grabbed his coat and rushed to Sam with his.

"Dean, I can put on my own coat," Sam whined.

"Sam!" John hollered. Sam was always a quick learner and at a young age, he figured out that when his dad used that tone and when he wasn't 'Sammy', he should just be quiet and go with the flow.

"Let's go wait outside." Quickly changing the subject, John motioned to the door. They could have been a fire.

**Okay, I didn't get to the deaf stuff yet… but one; I'm researching and two; this was a good place to stop and I wanted to get another chapter out. Trying to keep you interested, plus draw in some more readers! This is a tough world, fan fiction. :P JK! It _is _pretty hard to keep up with four characters and trying to keep their personalities as they are in the show. Hopefully, I'm doing all right with that. Suggestions are always welcome!  I still don't think there will be a main plotline in this story, concerning a hunt, etc. That is just too much for me to think of. We'll see though… Okay, all done. Please R/R and spread the word! Thanks for reading and the reviews. **


	4. Chapter 4

It had been several days since the fire alarm ordeal and the Winchester's were still stuck in the same old, cruddy, and smelly motel. Two weeks had past from the time when they had arrive and John had just about hustled all he could out of the small town and its neighboring cities. By this time, Sam had badgered Dean's ear off asking about where they were, why they were there, and a truckload of other 'why's' that always found a way to pop into a seven-year-old's mind.

Dean swiped a local map from the motel's lobby, giving it to Sam. Finally the boys determined where they were: Lockland, Colorado. The map actually interested the boy for more than a few minutes; it lasted him all of yesterday. He would move from the chair to the bed than to the bed to the floor, just staring at the map. All the words fascinated him; his beloved books in the Texas house weren't able to come with except for: (book), which was his favorite series. After reading those everyday, three times a day, they would become boring, so new material was always welcome. Dean received the distraction with open arms.

Today, however, found the boys in a different light. During the days, John usually could be found sleeping or researching, but on this morning when Dean woke up, he saw his father holding Ben on his lap.

"Dad?" Dean asked, getting up from the bed before moving quickly to the bathroom.

"Hey, son," nodded John. Looking up briefly to see the bathroom door wide open and his eldest son standing over the toilet. Grinning, he went back to Ben, having the 'that's my boy' moment. Although Dean kept quiet, he never shied away from his own skin, or Sam's for that matter. If he had to take a leak, it had to go – didn't matter where he was.

"Dad," Dean muttered again, "What are you doing here?"

"What? You don't like it?" John smirked. _No, I love it dad!_ Dean beamed, _I can't say that though. _When it was just Sam and Dean (and now Ben), the eleven year old never was at a loss for words. Either a witty comment to an adult asking where his parents were, or an on-the-toe's story to the pestering motel manager, Dean always had something to say.

"It's okay," was all he could muster out. He rarely ever had words to say to his father. John laughed, which partly irked the pre-teen.

"I know you like being in charge. That's good, though, Dean." _Why is dad laughing? Is _it_ over? '_It', being the revenge on behalf of his mother. Dean let out a sigh of relief realizing his father too his reply as a joke.

"Yeah, it's alright bossy Sammy around," Dean said softly. Finally emerging from the bathroom door, he walked over to the table his father sat at and took the seat across from him.

"As long as you him safe, Dean." Ever since Dean could remember, his father told him to look after Sam and keep him from harm, but up until a lately it was never repeated so often. When Dean was four, keeping his brother safe meant kissing him on the head and pulling the child's blanket up over his body. He was eleven now, which meant more responsibility for the younger boy.

"I do, dad," Dean sighed, slightly annoyed which his father's command.

"Forever, Dean. Keep him safe tomorrow and the day after that and-"

"I know, dad. Protect Sammy first," Dean's eyes darted around the room nervously before feeling the older man's gaze upon him, "and forever."

Father and son shared the stare until it was uncomfortable and until Ben began making baby sounds - "Goo" and "Gah" and dribble-dribble-dribble. Dean got up and rummaged through the food boxes on the tiny counter. He found the cereal box and returned to his seat, stuffing his hand in the top opening.

"So, are you here 'cause we're leaving?" Dean had found himself comfortable once again with his father; it never took long for the two to fall back into their normal demeanor – or what their take on the word, being very far from the true definition.

"Not yet, in a few days." Dean raised his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose in the fashion of his younger brother. _And? _John had Ben on his lap, catchy the child's tiny hands in his and making silly faces to make the baby laugh. _Hm…_ Dean was not impressed; you _don't do that with Sammy._

"Because of Ben?" snarled Dean. He wanted to leave, too, and in all truthfulness the days were getting boring for him as well.

"Yeah because of Ben," John huffed, quickly shooting Dean a look for the tone he used, but also catching the hint his son threw out. He continued on, "He's different, you've noticed, right?" Dean only nodded; contrasting Sam, he always let his father lay all the cards out on the table before taking his turn. "The only time he's every screamed was when that fire alarm went off, and that happened once when you were a baby and you yelled bloody murder." Dean smiled; John didn't often reflect on Dean's younger years.

"Ben was asleep and seconds before the alarm went off, he woke up, like he sensed it was coming."

"Oh, okay, dad." The kid was a bit confused.

"The vibrations, Dean. And you figured out he only responds to you if you look at him face to face, right?" Dean nodded. "He should be able to know when his name is being called now, but whatever ruckus Sam gets into, it never makes Ben's head turn."

"Yeah, alright," Dean said. At only eleven, he didn't find the amazement in his father's discovery. He still didn't understand why there were still in the rustic, muddy town. "How come we're still in Lockland?"

"I made an appointment at this hospital; it's this afternoon. I want to see if Ben's going deaf, or his deaf." _Oh, that's what he was trying to say, _Dean realized. _Ben can't hear._

"Gotcha, dad," smiled Dean.

"And doctor's cost money, money we don't have." John was always short with the words, always clear and to the point. Of course, unless he was dealing with Sam, than he was forced to speak more. The little boy was full of questions and opinions, which brought out more than just an order from the father. "If he is deaf, he'll need a hearing aid. And something like will send us a huge bill."

"Isn't that why we have pretend credit cards?" Although, Sam clearly held the brains in the family, Dean was quick to pick up on the sly way of life. He knew about the scams his father pulled. One time he found a card that read Mark Williams and inquired to John who's card it was; John than taught him the clever, but simple con.

"Right, son," John beamed. "But when doctor's put things in people, they keep a record of it; like when we scratched off the serial number on the Impala. The DMV keeps a record of that number, so they can always know whom the car belongs too. If Ben needs a hearing aid, we'll probably have to go to the doctor more than once, and we can't use a fake name, not pay, and than go back to get a repair. Get it?" Grimacing as he became conscious of how much work this new child was going to bed.

"Yeah, dad. We have to pay for his hearing aid with money." _I think. _

"That's my boy; you got the idea," smiled John. Little did Dean know, soon he would miss his father's smile even more.

"He's sleeping, again," Dean pointed at Ben. The child had drifted off to sleep; his little head across John's heart and his body slowly moving up and down with John's each and every breath.

"Yeah, well he was up before me. Woke up about 'round six-thirty to find this guy sitting up quietly, sucking on his blanket," John said. "Wake Sammy up, it's almost ten-thirty."

"Sure dad." Like every brother, Dean enjoyed waking up his sibling. Most of the time, the younger brother jumped on the older brother to wake him, though. Since, the fire, so many years before, Dean grew accustomed to waking up early; first by John dragging him out of bed, and than on his own accord. John usually would come in late from hunts, so it was Dean's job to get Sam breakfast and take them to school – that was in Texas.

By nature, Sam loved to sleep. Dean couldn't understand why because his nights were filled with fear. For the years following the fire in Lawrence, Dean would beg John to stay with him and Sam until they both fell asleep. At first, John didn't comply, until he met Missouri Mosley; who introduced the world of paranormal to the Winchesters'. It was than, John found the importance if protecting his children at night – truly protecting them. Dean often screamed, waking his sweat from a horrible nightmare. As he grew older, they stopped being every night and occurred only a few times a year. Still, Dean never found the joy in sleeping.

"Sammy," the older brother cried. "You can't sleep in all day! It's-" his eyes darted to the clock on the nightstand, "10:37!" _Dad and I talked for an hour, didn't seem like it. _Time did go fast when Dean ever shared a moment with John.

"Ehn," Sam mumbled. He still rested on his back, although, his arms were astray and the side of his face smushed into the pillow. Dean hopped on the bed.

"C'mon, Sammy. I'm hungry. Get up."

"Go 'way, Dean," grumbled Sam, pushing Dean's hand away from his face.

"I'll put your hand in water!" Dean squealed, sitting on Sam's stomach tickling the child all over. Sam's eyes shot open!

"Dean! NO!" Sam yelled at the threat. It was only that, however – a threat – the older brother used it repeatedly to get the younger brother up.

"Yeah," he continued to laugh and tickle his brother, who now was struggling to free himself from beneath the older boy. "I have to pee! Dean!" More laughter, Dean enjoyed this. "Daddy!"

John, slightly amused, now found the younger boy's cries aggravating – again, with his short of patience.

"Alright, Dean. Let him up," John asserted, placing Ben down on the bed to get his coat on and immediately picking the child up again. Muffled sounds of his younger son informed him that Dean did not get off Sam. "Dean!" he snapped. This time with enough force that Dean's head jerked to meet John's voice. Frowning, Dean complied.

"Fine, dad," he sighed. Sam bolted from his laying position to the bathroom.

"Thanks daddy!" the seven-year-old yelled, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. John rolled his eyes.

"Is he gonna be grumpy today?" John questioned. Dean knew Sam better than Sam probably knew himself; John always went to Dean when Sam's personality was at query.

"Nah," Dean began, moving to his backpack to change out of his pjs and into a pair of jeans and plaid shirt (matching his father). "He got like 10 hours of sleep, he'll be okay." _He better be okay._ If little Sammy didn't get enough sleep, it would for sure be hell for John Winchester. John's youngest could claim the sweetest child award effortlessly, along with taking the grumpiest child award with as much ease. Dean moved towards the bedroom door, scoffing when he found the door locked.

"Sam! Open up!" Dean knocked.

"No!"

"Come on, Sammy. I need to take another leak!"

"Dean," the younger boy tried his hardest to growl, "I'm using the bathroom. Wait your turn." _Wait your turn? That's gonna get you beat up sometime, Sammy._

"We have the same parts, dude," Dean said, very a matter of fact. "I'll tell dad,"

"Ugh, fine." Sam opened the door. _Haha, always works like a charm._

"You're not doing anything."

"I'm brushing my teeth. You have to too."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean went to the toilet, opening his zipper and doing his business without though.

"Ew, Dean!" Sam whined. Sam liked to be private and at seven that meant using the toilet alone.

"What?" Dean looked to Sam.

"I can see your pee-pee," blurted Sam with suds in his mouth. Finding no humor in Sam's statement, Dean shrugged. (Sam's declaration had no intent to entertain.)

"Sam," sighed Dean. "Don't call it that. We both have one and we see it all the time." Sam turned the other way, continuing to brush his teeth.

_Damn, I really had to go._ Sam turned back to Dean.

"I'm doing it right?" Sam asked. His full concern being on the way he brushed his teeth. He already forgot his mini boycott to avoid Dean's 'pee-pee' and stared at Dean waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, did you get the inside teeth and the one's all the way in the back?" Dean finished and zipped up his jeans. He moved to get his own toothbrush that Sam had insisted he get out the first night they were at the hotel. As Dean was always to protect Sam, Sam constantly brought Dean back to a sense of innocence and normality.

At the time they had left Texas, John was just starting to introduce Sam into the entire aspect of hunting, taking him out after school to train with Dean. Sam didn't know how it truly felt to be a hunter yet; Dean didn't either, having not been on a hunt yet, but he knew how to handle a gun and rifle and other weapons, he knew how to ward off evil spirits. John taught Sam the basics up until seven: how to kick and punch, what iron and salt really did (besides decorated the boys' beds), the difference between good and evil. Sam was an incredibly smart child, learning to speak and walk by age two; but his maturity level was still that of a child, which frustrated John as he tried to teach his youngest son skills of a demon hunter.

Dean had finished showing Sam how to clean the way far back teeth. Sam scuffled through his bag to find clothes, and changed.

"Boys, lets go!" John could be heard from outside, the motel door swung up. Sam was sitting serenely on the unmade bed, as Dean scurried to find the child's shoes. No matter where they were, Sam always found a way to misplace his shoes.

"Put them by the door, next time, Sammy." Dean grumbled.

"Okay, Dean," Sam nodded, sincerely taking his brother's suggestion to heart.

"Well, Mr. James, you were smart to bring Ben in," Dr. Booth said. John had decided that although they would pay in cash, usually Ben real name would be better than creating a fake alias. James was common enough, that suspicion would not be drawn. "How old is he again?"

"Eighteen months," John recited.

"Ah, right. At his age, most children are beginning to create their first words – ma, da – simple sounds, even. The noises he makes are minimal at best, which is the number one sign that he has a hearing impairment. Let me run and get some tools and we'll figure out how much Ben can actually hear; sometimes as a child grows older he'll be able to react more to sounds." The doctor placed Ben into John's arms and stepped out of the room.

"Daddy," Sam quietly whined.

"Sam, we're not done yet." John already knew Sam's questioned.

"But, I'm bored."

"Read the books, you like to read."

"I already read them all, two times!" the child yelled.

"Sam!" John urged, keeping as calm as he could. "Sit down and tell Dean the different types of spirits." Sam glared at his father, to which John narrowed his own eyes and snapped his fingers in the direction of Dean.

Dean had just been sitting quietly listening to an old Walk-man that John had recently given him. Sam tugged on his shirt.

"Dean." Dean did not respond though, the music blared loud and for a few minutes he lost himself in the melodic tunes.

"Dean," Sam tried again, this time pulling down hard on Dean's hard.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, taking on the earphones. "What's the big idea?"

"Daddy says I have to tell you about spirits."

"I know all about spirits, Sam." Looking to his father, Dean sighed as John gave him a pleading look. "Fine, let's see if you get it right this time." And Sam began to rattle off what John had recently taught him.

Minutes later, Dr. Booth came back in and told John to hold Ben still. He inserted a tiny tool called a probe microphone into Ben's ear canal, which was able to test the amount of sound Ben's ear was actually receiving.

"When I play this sound-," the doctor pressed play on a small stereotype system and a loud beep sounded. "This bulb will light if the microphone can detect the noise. We'll do ten tries at different beep volumes."

Dr. Booth placed the microphone into Ben's left ear, as John held him. The baby squirmed at the weird touch of the tool. Cooing him, John rubbed his back.

"We will than have to repeat the process with his right ear," said Dr. Booth. John nodded, making sure his breathing was strong and calm, so Ben could feel his chest rise and fall; that always kept the baby calm.

Noting that the doctor occupied, he turned to Dean and Sam. Sam was still talking about, his voice getting louder and he grew more tired and more fidgety.

"Mr. James, the room will have to be silent for the procedure to work correctly." John looked back at the doctor.

"Alright," he turned to the boys once again, "you hear that Sam? You did good telling Dean, now you gotta be quiet for the doctor." Sam sighed, but since the doctor smiled so nice at him, he would comply with his father's request.

"Okay, daddy."

The doctor went on to finish with the testing of Ben's left ear, and all the while Sam wiggled in his seat on the small couch. Dean knocking him in the shoulder and telling him to "shoo," didn't really help the child sit still. They had been at the hospital for a half hour waiting, and almost forty-five minutes with the doctor; for a seven year old that was a long time.

"Now, on to the right year, Ben," the doctor said.

"Dad, Sammy's-" Dean started.

"Come here, Dean. Sit with Ben and make sure he stays very still," John said. The two changed spots so John could deal with Sam, who now was sprawled across the couch kicking his legs.

"Does this thing hurt him?" Dean asked, while Dr. Booth placed the microphone into Ben's ear.

"No, not at all. It's very tiny, even for a baby's ear. He only squirms because the feeling is new to him," Dr, Booth explained. _Hm, nice doctor._ Dean could not stand hospitals, but he felt comfortable enough with the male doctor to let him work on Ben. The doctor didn't say anything as he worked with Ben's right ear, just nodding and scribbling down notes.

"Sam," John whispered, having picked Sam up and placed the child in his lap, letting Sam's legs hang on either side of his.

"Dad-" Sam tried to get up, but John's grasp. Jon quickly clamped his hand over the boy's mouth. He leaned in close to Sam's ear

"Samuel." John only used Sam's full name when he became very irritated and upset with the child.

"Daddy," Sam whispered back, "my toes are sleeping. I don't like that." John glared at Dean, although his oldest son's back was to him. Dean taught Sam mounds of information like that – how body parts fell asleep, where babies 'came' from, how gummy bears were made. This was a time that information was not needed in the child's mind. John seized Sam's left hand with his right Sam's right hand with his left, before crossing the child's arms across his shoulders. Sam immediately stopped struggling.

"Remember in the waiting room? If you don't behave, you're gonna get a spanking later," John hissed. Sam didn't say anything back, just huffed loudly.

"Remember?"

"Yes sir," Sam replied quietly.

"Good, now just sit here with me. Close your eyes and think about the books you just read, okay? Picture them in your head." John smiled to himself, when he felt Sam's body relax in his and Sam's head lay still on his chest. "Good boy."

Several minutes later, Dr. Booth had completed the procedure and left once more to get some pamphlets with information on the Ben's condition.

The Winchester's were back at the hotel after over two hours at the hospital. They had stopped only to double up on their clothes, as it was becoming chillier in the January air. John decided that Sam had been reasonably good that day, and that they could all use some fresh air, so they found a small park.

"Dean, hold my hand," Sam looked up at his older brother before they crossed the street.

"Why?" Dean didn't get it.

"I can't cross the street alone!" exclaimed Sam. _Ms. Louise taught him that_, Dean sighed. He missed her.

"Okay, okay. Gimme your hand, brat." Sam obediently locked his hand in Dean's, squeezing tight when Dean bolted across the street. John found a bench near the park to sit with Ben at.

"Dean! Be careful with Sammy, make sure he doesn't wander off!" He yelled.

Whether Dean heard his father or not, could not be told as he swung across the monkey bars. The park was a much-needed escape for him, as much as it was Sam. Sam's laughter could be heard a mile away, as he ran after Dean trying to keep up with the older boy. John allowed himself a moment to soak in his children's glee; with the events of the previous month and the hunting business in general, John often forgot how to enjoy fatherhood. Baby Ben brought him back to reality, as gained another precious son. As much as the child already burdened the father, John couldn't resist the loving aura that surround the child.

Dr. Booth discovered and explained best he could the type of deafness Ben had. In fact, Ben did not suffer from deafness at all, but rather hearing impairment because his ears could make out very loud sounds. Ben had profound hearing loss, which meant that his brain could only recognize sounds at 90 decibels or greater. The cause of the hearing loss was genetic and the damage to the ear was sensorineural. This type of hearing loss is permanent. In Ben's case, since he still a baby his brain had a difficult time figuring out what exactly it could hear. Dr. Booth said that in the following years of growth, Ben's hearing would move to a severe case; meaning he could hear 71 to 90 decibels of sound, which could be a scream or yell from someone.

Ben would need a hearing aid, which is what John had predicted. The medical world had just created a new baby-proof hearing aid, ideal for children. The aid was called a behind the ear hearing aid, that could attach to the child's clothing so that it would be lost if the child picked it out. The hospital took a mold of Ben's ears, to which they would find a suitable aid that would fit securely.

The doctor explained that although the child would begin to hear sounds, they might not always be as clear, so John shouldn't rely on the aid to communicate Ben. He gave John several simple sign language pamphlets that words John would his commonly: no, hello, hungry, etc. As recommended, John should look into the local hearing-impaired school that would teach Ben sign language and how to adjust to life with a hearing impairment, of course this was for when Ben was of school age. But the doctor urged John to go to the school as soon as possible, as it had classes for younger children and their families.

It had been a week since Ben received his hearing aid. The item, colored in blue mold, fit perfectly into Ben's ear. John only turned the hearing aid on for a few hours a day, so that Ben could get use to hearing noises. Tonight would be the first night the aid would be on at night. Ben had accustomed normally to the new sounds he heard, often whipping his head around when Dean and Sam bickered. The boys were fascinated with the hearing aid though, and enjoyed trying to get Ben's attention while calling his name – something he still was getting use to.

"Okay, Ben," John spoke loud, clear and slowly just as the doctor had told him. He held Ben on the side of his hip, and picked up the child's blue blanket. "Blankie," He said. Ben smiled and giggled, one of the only sounds the child was able to create before the hearing aid. His tiny hands snagged the blanket. "Blankie," repeated John. Repetition, Dr. Booth had said.

"Ah!" Ben squealed, not a clear sound, but the child was a quick learner. The moans he usually replied with had very fast become vowel sounds.

"Good, Jamie-" John praised. He often called Ben's real father, Duke James, by that nickname. The slip-of-the-tongue shocked John, as he and the boys didn't speak of Duke or Louise. They had only discussed what happened the following day of incident and than the subjected was dropped.

"Eee," Ben bounced at the sound of the name.

"You like that, huh?" John tickled the child's stomach. "I like it, too. Jamie." Ben rolled his head making unclear sounds. "Let's go to bed."

John lie on his back and let Ben succumb to the crevasse of John's chest. The baby's head perched across John's heart customary. Dean and Sam had fallen asleep sometime before, being exhausted from playing outside and than wrestling one another inside. John had already kissed them both, making sure their salt circle was not disturbed.

It took longer than usual for Ben to fall asleep, John noted. He never allowed himself to fall into slumber until all his boys were sleeping themselves. Closing his eyes only briefly before he felt the near by train rumble the paper-thin motel walls. The vibrations sent by the train through the floorboards caused Ben to awake. The train actually calmed the child as he had fall asleep to it for the past month. Moments later a car horn went off outside, which more than startled Ben. He began to scream and the unknown and unwelcome sound.

"Shoo, Ben," John cooed, placing a hand on the small the child's back. The car rang on and so did Ben's cries. John lifted himself into a sitting position. "It's okay. Daddy's here." That, too, was a new one for John. He subconsciously realized that since the child could hear now, the notion of 'daddy' would make it all better. It worked with Sam; John would hold Sammy tightly in his arms when he had a nightmare, repeating 'daddy's here'. Sam would also say "daddy's here, Dean," as if it were a complete phrase in itself, saying: don't be scared, no need to worry, all is well.

The car horn was one thing; the whistle from the train passing by was another. The combined noises and the rumble of the floorboards sent Ben in a fit of movement. Dean had awakened from the cries, and sat up trying to find his father's figure in the dark room. (Dean never fell into a deep sleep, like Sam.) The baby's cries worried the boy awake.

"Dad?" he called out.

"Dean, get the lights!" John finally comprehended that the darkness, new loud sounds, and tremble from the train was all too much for the child. The baby probably felt completely lost. The lights clicked on.

"Is he okay?"

"Jamie, it's okay. It's only a car and a train," John tried. The father reposition the child, so that Ben's hear was near John's heart. He than started breathing in deep and hard, remembering that it calmed Ben. Within seconds, Ben's cries seized and he whimpered softly.

"That car horn is annoying," Dean agreed. _Random, Dean, Random._ He felt slightly uncomfortable watching his father with Ben, as he hadn't been that close with either of his own sons since his crusade of revenge began seven years ago.

"Yeah." John said rubbing Ben's back. "It's okay, Jamie." _Jamie? I never got any special name._

"Awe, the little guy took a leak. Damn," John swore, making a mental note to buy thicker diapers. "Hey, kiddo, come here and hold onto him, while I change my shirt."

Dean stood up and positioned himself on his father's bed, just like John had been. (Dean leaned his back against the bed frame and let his legs lay straight out.)

"Big brother," John said, moving the child into Dean's arms, before rushing to the bathroom to clean up.

"Hi, Ben," Dean said nervously. _What's your problem Dean? He's just a baby._ "Well, I'm your biggest brother." He let a few moments go by not knowing what to say to the child, if he should say anything at all. Ben started to whimper again from the sounds of the bathroom. "No, no. It's okay. That's just daddy washing his hands." Dean didn't notice, but his two index fingers patted the rhythm to his favorite Metallica song, 'One'. He stopped thinking it would bother the child.

"Dad always keeps us safe, Benny. And I'll always keep up safe, like I do Sam. You don't have to be scared 'cause Daddy or Sammy or I will always find you. Doesn't matter how dark or loud it is, I'll always find you. Just remember to open your eyes; Sam forgets that part sometimes," Dean laughed. _You're rambling like him, _he urged thinking of his little brother. _That was funny, hide and seek doesn't mean close your eyes, geek. _He smiled at the memory; games were always hard to play with Sam. The child asked so many questions. _Sammy talks too much._ Dean noticed his hands were beating Ben's back again, but found that Ben had fallen asleep.

"You're good with him, Dean," John spoke up. He had been standing at the doorway when Dean told Ben John would always keep them safe.

Dean slightly embarrassed, only replied, "I guess."

"Is he sleeping?"

"Uh huh. I think he likes Metallica," Dean beamed. John only gave his son a funny look.

"He fell asleep with you," John said moving back to the bed. Dean noticed the sadness in his father's voice.

"He's starting to fuss again," Dean said, remembering the word Louise used whenever Sam would become grumpy. "Can you hold him again?"

"Yeah sure." They switched sports and Dean crawled into the bed he shared with Sam. "Get some sleep, Dean. Thanks for holding him; you are a great brother, ya know?" stressed John.

"I know," Dean retorted with a smart-aleck tone. He situated his body into its habitual sleeping pose. Than he looked back at his father, "Can we love Ben?"

John was a bit taken back with his oldest sons question. Sam usually shot off ones like that.

"Of course we can Dean," John paused to think. " He's a lovable little guy, isn't he?" Dean nodded. "Yes, it's okay to love him even though he's not ours, like Sam and I are yours."

"Okay."

"'Cause, Dean!" John added, catching Dean before he laid back down, "We're family. All four us, and you can't break up a family. Were forever strong when we're all together. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Dean agreed. John's occasional speeches like that always plastered themselves in Dean's memory. "Night daddy," Dean quickly mumbled, as he rarely called his father 'daddy' anymore.

John turned off the nightstand light and continued his heavy breathing technique to calm Ben and eventually the two fell into a deep slumber.

**Yay or nay? Sorry if it's a little slow right now, but had to established Ben's hearing problem. Please review; suggestions and comments are more than appreciated! **


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